The forewarning wasn't necessary. Valerna was hardly a damsel in distress. She was no stranger to conflict; her eternal voyage was overgrown with it. In her youth, the thicket of despair and its prickly thorns strangled her. The spider was born in blood; her mother was cut open so that she might live during the delivery process. That baptism continued through the innumerable wars and dissents spurned by the factions she once served. Peace was fleeting; it loitered one moment and dissolved the next. If one blinked, they might miss that wink of respite.
Her account was one of strife. The giantess lived for the hunt and was purified through the continual process of proving herself. Should death somehow claim her now, she'd expire as she lived, opposing its power. Her ligaments had long since awoken, their tips aimed at the rustling of the brush. The emergence of a second disturbance within the overgrowth brought a smile to her face. How riveting. The pair found themselves becoming the hunted. She could only speculate what manner of beast stalked in pairs.
Veron's side commentary had been rightly ignored. Now wasn't the time for idle chitchat. She did not need his direction, nor did he hold any authority over her. The rat had vastly overestimated his influence over their little dynamic. Perhaps he regarded Valerna as an equal or a subordinate. If so, the potency of his delusions knew no bounds. They were not comrades; no great thread of camaraderie linked them. No, they were merely aligned presently due to circumstances. And it was a transient alliance at best.
Her twin hearts thumped wildly against her ribs. Her breathing became calm as those pupils dilated. Valerna's split tongue sketched her lips as she crouched and stood on all fours. Her spider legs rested on the soil as she exhaled. The loose dirt was carried off as those eyelids tapered ever so negligibly. Something was calming about this experience, something palliative about being so close to her roots. Her hearts drummed to a primordial and primal cadence, the tempos like that of war drums.
Where the trees stood tall and proud, a treeline thick with brush camouflaged their foes. The dense greenery formed a natural barrier, obscuring the view beyond and lending an atmosphere of mystery to the surroundings. Each leaf appeared to whisper the forest's mysteries, while the tangled undergrowth presented sanctuary to unseen creatures.
Amidst the verdant landscape, the calm lake lay nestled, its surface as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the emerald hues of the surrounding herbage. The tranquil waters sparkled in the dappled sunlight, casting dancing shadows upon the forest floor. Yet beneath the tranquil mask crept the unknown, a silent sentinel waiting to reveal its secrets.
The forest's silence was palpable, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the soft chirping of birds. Its stillness seemed to linger as if holding its breath in anticipation of what would come. The air was heavy with the aroma of earth and damp vegetation, mingling with the faint bouquet of wildflowers carried on the breeze.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting spotty patterns of light and shadow upon the earth. Each beam supplied a window of wonderment, unveiling glimpses of concealed beauty amidst the thick foliage. Yet even as the daylight danced upon the forest floor, there was a sense of presage, a sensation that all was not as it seemed.
Despite the picturesque stage before them, there was an underlying suspense, a connotation of forthcoming conflict that hung everywhere. Two unknown predators lurked in the forest's depths, their presence only betrayed by the subtle indications. And as the serenity before the storm swathed the wilds, the treeline silently witnessed the impending clash.
It wasn't long before the boars walked into view. Valerna's eyes locked with one of them as they sized one another. The wild hogs were impressive in stature. Nonetheless, they were dwarfed by the Araneae. Each beast had to weigh at least a thousand pounds. Their muscular build suggested they were successful predators. They reminded her of the tusked critters of her ancestral home. However, those pigs were far bigger and hideous by comparison.
These boars were odd; they behaved differently. Rather than focus on the smaller prey, they renounced their edge. Most pack hunters ganged up on whichever prey they deemed weaker or more vulnerable. Instead, the hogs broke ranks from one another and confronted the pair on equal footing. Bewildered but not stupified, the spider kept her wits and senses about her. She wondered if more were waiting in the woods and that this was merely a distraction. Their hooves trampled the tall grass as they proceeded cautiously at first. This opening gave Valerna time to examine the beast more closely.
Her opponent towered over the undergrowth; his enormous frame bristled with muscle and sinew. His coarse and mottled fur bore the scars of numerous battles, proof of the ferocity with which he defended his territory. With gleaming tusks, his formidable weaponry protruded from his snout, honed to razor-sharp points capable of quickly riving flesh and bone. His steely gaze revealed a rudimentary instinct.
As he moved through the forest, the ground trembled beneath his weight; the earth seemed to recoil in deference to his poundage. Those hooves left imprints as his deep, guttural grunts echoed. Yet despite his homely shell, his form had a primal beauty. It embodied the untamed wilds from which he hailed. He was a creature of raw power and indomitable will, an incarnation of the untamed spirit of the wild. The board now charged headstrong into the fray.
Valerna remained muted as she counted to herself. The sprinting beast warranted no fear or disdain but respect. She was humbled that he considered her worthy game, an honor and distinction she'd reciprocate. The spider waited as his stampeding diminished the space between them. Her posterior rose as those spinal legs were bent and supported her weight. The giant's bountiful bosom dangled and swayed as she wiggled her rear from anticipation.
It had finally come, the opening to strike. It's a pity the critter had a slew of openings. Valerna used her arachnoid legs to pounce into the air. It was just enough to clear the creature by six feet or so. While she did so, one of her ligaments fired a blotch of webbing onto the soil. The unwitting boar ran into the trap as he squealed and writhed. Vainly, the hog thrust his tusk, further entangling himself within that silky filigree.
There was no escape; the swine's fate was sealed. The natural forces of the world would do all the work for Valerna. She weighed over a ton, and all that was crashing down. Gravity was as much a friend as it could be an enemy. A variable that, in this instance, aided her triumph. Her boots came down first, only for the right foot to dig into the boar's neck. Bone snapping and a terminal cry of resistance rang out across the wilds.
The distant birds flew away as silence once more returned. Valerna stood upright, her boot pushing deeper and crushing the neck. She stepped off and turned to look down at the predator. Its body twitched as its little legs kicked futilely to escape. She sighed, and her bosom rose and sank as she brought her left leg upward. The spectacle showcased her flexibility as it pointed to the heavens.
Valerna sent the leg downward in a fluid and powerful strike. The boot collided with the boar's cranium as it caved in. Blood pooled around its mashed skull as the fleshly bits were crushed and smeared by the digging of her footwear. Her spider legs combed back her auburn mane once more as the Latina giant turned her head to catch Veron gobbling the corpse. Had he foregone sustenance? How long had it been since the rat had eaten? Judging by the ferocious manner in which he consumed the prey, she'd assume it had to be a notable period.
The prehistoric hogs of her world were classified as unclean. If the meat wasn't cooked just right, one risked parasites. And here Veron was, eating them raw without care. Was it possible his gut wasn't susceptible to them? They were aliens, so maybe the differences implied they didn't exist or wouldn't affect him. Of course, it was equally likely he'd have no defense to oppose the invasion. Either way, a foolish risk given, there were methods to sidestep the potential hazard.
The spider didn't dare deny him his meal. For all Valerna knew, this could be Veron's last supper. While he feasted and gorged himself, she walked to the lake and peered out across its glass-like surface. She said nothing, opting to feel the moment instead of spoiling it with cheap words. The giant procured water yesterday and boiled it. She had had enough for a few days and now pondered, questioning the rat about whether he had any containers on him. She had collected sufficiently for herself, but two may dwindle her reserves.
Outwardly, she appeared still. Privately, Valerna regretted not bathing before playing the harp, but that's what she got for breaking her mourning routine. She shrugged indifferently before pivoting and facing the rodent. Her eyes scanned the carcass, estimating how much meat would spoil. There was no way the man's gut could hold all the gristle and muscle. How sad that so much would go to waste. But at least the fur would provide him some fiber.
The dynasty was nothing short of an experiment. One that its founder suspected was condemned to succumb to entropy. The purpose behind her filigree was to relieve those entangled from the burden of their existence. At least, that's what she'd assert to those within her court. Nevertheless, a clandestine agenda stoked her aspirations—something she scarcely admitted but became increasingly relevant. The scourge that is the defiled stood as her grand antagonist—the incarnation of upheaval soon to confront that embodiment of order.
Historically, her predecessors took a more hands-off approach to governing. They'd rest their romps on that throne and dispatch commands as they relished unadulterated hedonism. Valerna regarded this as obscene. The want for unfettered indulgence could only disseminate deficiency within one's ranks. The great spider remained prudent on her web, analyzing the vibrations of her threads. Like marionettes, the people under her yoke marched to the chords she plucked. That cadence reverberated across generations and only increased in volume.
The time had come for the Araneae to creep down from her mesh. She'd traverse the earth and inspect the condition of her empire with those domineering eyes. Rot was inevitable and often manifested where one might least expect it. If her troops' discipline and aptitude waned, it insinuated complacency within the officers. Such inspections were commonplace and ostensibly arbitrary. However, Valerna never moves without purpose or design. The targeting of the city garrisons foreshadowed much.
Silently her spindly ligaments carried her across the capital. The entourage following her was ever vigilant as they navigated the serpentine streets. The bustling cacophony of the municipality boded well, and the people's faces emitted a glow of hope. The heft of responsibility she shouldered was immense. She bore its poundage not out of hubris or the intent to architect some legacy. Valerna carried it because another might get it wrong. And the cost of failure greatly outweighed all else.
Valerna raised her amber gemstones to the cerulean welkin. The binary sols' luminance and warmth harbingered a pleasant day. The ambiance of faith empowered the chieftain's conviction. Nevertheless, despite being communicable, she couldn't help but wonder if something was overlooked. She'd remain hushed, waving to the people who had assembled as was expected—a thoughtful gesture, albeit perpetrated out of habit, more so than empathy.
The matron's bountiful figure was embellished with a kaleidoscopic array of plumage. Feathers plucked from peacocks and positioned in such a way as to lure one's focus. Across those hackles were spots that, like eyeballs, gawked every which direction. A symbolic component of her habiliment that announced the wisdom and reach of the state. Valerna's youthful visage was painted in multicolored dyes, lines that accentuated her features while telling a tale—pigmentation derived from the corpses of the giant insects that crept across the jungle's floor.
Rubicund bone mold and freshly woven spider silk boasted the dynasty's might and resilience. It aired Valerna's dominance as the chieftain strode across the throng on the back of her steadfast carnotaurus. The force of its footfalls spurred forth the slightest of trembles as its muscles worked to support its mistress's weight. The spider crown was secured on her head while her arachnoid extremities combed back that auburn mane. Those blackened eyes gazed across the multitudes and circled the totality of the headdress.
The transport had become a parade, an organic development that puffed Valerna's bosom with pride and gratitude. However, her royal guard and blood thralls were none too pleased by the security risk it might pose. Eventually, they exited the lower districts and moved into the militarized west wing of the boneyard. Horns blared, signaling her arrival as those who assumed their post banged their fist against their breastplate to show solidarity. Typically the nobles wouldn't return the gesture. The spider wasn't one such woman and reciprocated the same symbol to each soldier and guard they passed.
The chieftain respected these virtuous souls. Before her time as ruler, the eternal voyager spent many a decade as a mercenary and soldier. Throughout those voyages, she understood what it meant to answer that call. That one will sacrifice all upon the tabernacle of civilization and yet quickly be forgotten by the masses. These men and women embraced such thraldom. Servitude to one's people without any assurances of glory, let alone remembrance. A saddening facet of society that was seldom weighed even by philosophers.
Those old eyes veered from one face to the next. Valerna was futilely endeavoring to do the unattainable—ingraining all their mugs onto her finite mind. No doubt by now, those in command of this outpost were sweating. She had arrived ahead of schedule and purposely took the scenic route. It must be pure pandemonium within those walls as they scrambled to organize some ceremonious greeting. But that wasn't what the spider wanted. No, she wished to see her servants in their natural environment. Or in one that resembled it as much as possible.
The carnotaurus continued the trek as they eventually came to the training grounds. The lone fighter diligently honing his craft was effortlessly spotted. The entire group stood on the edge as they awkwardly watched his form. The entourage desisted their travels at the behest of their matron. An order communicated not verbally but by raising that skeletal-clad hand. Those amber jewels watched his little performative dance before she dismounted off her saurian.
Sōwilō might feel the immense gravity of her presence. Those aged eyes assessed his form and carried with them an overbearing atmosphere. Like a predator Valerna circled the boy, her hands behind her and above that spheroidal posterior. Her muscles were perceptible through the silk as they flexed to support the sphinx movements. The chieftain evaluated the lad while her dutiful guard set up a perimeter while maintaining their formation.
Ultimately Valerna stopped her stride as she stood behind the boy. The hair on Sōwilō's neck may have been standing upright due to the ionization of the air. She needn't say anything. Her mere proximity was enough to communicate her authority. Finally, the silence shattered due to the Araneae speech.
"The training ground is barren. What am I to make of this? Could it be only one soldier under my collar has any aspirations? A boy, young, inexperienced. Hardly a man, and yet he defies the allure of the doldrums besetting the others?" Valerna's voice was loud, booming. The officers who had spotted the queen stood on the outside as they were forced to bear the brunt of her scathing observations.
"How can I work with a patch of silt? A garden plagued by infertility? What good are we if we disregard the call for excellence to loll within the tempting pits of slothfulness?" Her spider ligaments were busy knitting together an inch thick of rope the entire time she spoke. Valerna turned her head as a powerful glower met the men who bore responsibility.
"Boy..." She lingered on that moniker, swiveling her head to face Sōwilō as she stared down at him.
"Give your name. And the name of those whose charge you're under. Why do you toil while others are satisfied to vegetate in the meadows of complacency? And, what should one do when weeds seek to choke the garden?" She questioned as the men that accompanied her slammed their shields on the ground and lifted their spears, creating a thicket of death around them.